


Perfectly Polyjuiced

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7755115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione receives an invitation to a mysterious and most anticipated masquerade party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfectly Polyjuiced

When an owl swooped through the flat to deliver Hermione a black scroll, she was elbow deep in dough (kneading was a habit that her flat mates found ridiculous because they were both pureblood witches). Ginny untied the scroll and pinched a piece of dough for the bird before sending it on its way. When the redhead gave a low whistle, Hermione finally looked up. Ginny held the letter up for her to examine.

 

“Hermione Granger, you are invited to the masquerade to be held next Saturday in Wiltshire,” she muttered aloud. “Wiltshire? What the devil is in Wiltshire?”

 

Ginny turned the scroll to examine closer. “Is that real gold on the parchment…?”

 

“I’m not going,” Hermione huffed. She wiped her cheek with her shoulder and went back to her dough.

 

“Yes, you are,” Ginny countered.

 

Hermione met the mother-like glower of the redhead and arched a brow.

 

“You’ve moped enough!” chimed in Hermione’s other flat mate. Pansy leaned in the doorway leading to the living room.

 

“I don’t mope,” Hermione muttered. She did not want to be prodded by her friends particularly when her hands were sticky, and her wand was pinning her curls atop her head.

 

“It’s not your fault he’s gay,” Pansy added. Hermione winced. She had been mooning over a new wizard in the Department of Mysteries’ laboratory and got a shock when he introduced her to his boyfriend.

 

“I’m burned out!” Hermione snapped. “I’m sick of stupid boys, and I’m not going.”

 

“Heinrik was gay, Steven was married, Calvin didn’t want a commitment… Who am I forgetting, Gin? Weren’t there four this year…?”

 

Ginny whispered for Pansy to be quiet as Hermione’s hands stilled. She bent her head, and her shoulders began to shake.

 

“Hermione,” Ginny offered.

 

“She’s laughing,” Pansy said and wandered away.

 

Hermione burst into giggles and wiped under her eyes with her wrists.

 

Ginny’s expression was still sympathetic. “Rough year.”

 

Hermione laughed again, and Ginny joined her. When she’d caught her breath, Hermione said, “Are you and Draco going out tonight?”

 

“Yeah… You’re welcome to come with us,” Ginny replied, hopping onto the counter as Hermione portioned the dough into little tins. Hermione shot her a narrow-eyed glare.

 

“Alright. I’ve got to get ready… What about you, Pans?” Ginny hollered as she strolled down the corridor to her room.

 

“Harry’s bringing over a new flick… And, Hermione, you should probably stay out of the living room unless you’re feeling voyeuristic…”

 

Hermione didn’t bother to reply. She was familiar with Pansy and Harry’s proclivities. “I’ll be out…”

 

“Out?” Pansy suddenly reappeared. “Not Calvin…”

 

“No. Never again. I’m just going to walk down Diagon Alley… Maybe visit Hogsmeade,” Hermione said, dusting her hands off on her apron.

 

“Get a dress for the party,” Pansy ordered.

 

Hermione picked up the black scroll. The parchment was decorated with vines and delicate flowers that glimmered in the kitchen’s low light. Shiny dark lettering flashed as she tilted the letter. “Singles only.”

 

Pansy grinned wide as Hermione snorted.

 

“It’s a gimmick.” Hermione balled up the scroll and tossed it into the bin. She untied her apron and shrugged at her snarky roommate as she went into her room to get presentable.

 

Pansy burst into Ginny’s room. “We have a problem.”

 

****~*~** **

 

The next morning Hermione was back in the kitchen with feet on the table and her nose in a new book.

 

“Huh,” Ginny said, dropping into a free chair. She was looking at the front page of ‘ _ _The Daily Prophet__.’

 

“Something newsworthy…?” Hermione asked, taking a bite of buttered toast. 

 

“Someone thinks so,” Ginny replied, handing over the paper.

 

Hermione took in the picture of the black invitation and skimmed the article. “What an odd thing for the ‘ _ _Prophet’__ to take an interest in…”

 

“Twenty-four invitations went out into the world, and you received one. If you don’t go, I’ll __Imperio__ you…” Pansy announced.

 

“Nice hair,” Hermione grinned. Pansy’s bangs were sticking in all directions. Hermione paid for her comment with a smack on her head. “Why are you two so keen that I go?” she asked suspiciously.

 

Ginny suddenly looked a little guilty, but Pansy spoke up, “You’ve been sad, Hermione. You need to get out and find a good one. They do exist, and I bet you twenty Galleons you find him at that party.”

 

Hermione quirked a brow. Something was afoot if Pansy was bringing money into the situation. She looked at the front page again. Wiltshire…? Wasn’t that where Malfoy Manor was…? Was Draco planning something…? That would explain Ginny’s expression.

 

“This isn’t a set-up, is it…? With one of Draco’s cronies…?”

 

Pansy scowled, and Ginny continued to look a little guilty.

 

“No,” Pansy growled. “Hermione Jean Granger! You need to get laid!” The witch stomped off, her house-elf slippers squeaking in protest.

 

“She’s taking this personally,” Hermione said, mystified.

 

“She cares about you. And she does not care for many,” Ginny sighed.

 

“You really think I should go?” Hermione asked with a wrinkled nose.

 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Ginny sang. “If not for yourself, for us.”

 

“Alright, I’ll go,” Hermione sighed softly. Suspicion tickled the back of her mind, but she was suddenly worried about the night’s event. “I don’t have a dress.”

 

“Let’s go shopping!” Pansy exclaimed, returning to the kitchen fully dressed with a bounce in her step.

 

~*~

 

Hermione checked her reflection. Her dress robes were black silk, and they glittered with clusters of gold dust that hugged her most provocatively. Pansy was a miracle worker with her bushy hair. It fell in soft ringlets down her back, sparkling with tiny points of gold dust that matched her gown. Ginny had done her make-up and it was—thankfully—natural except for her rose and gold lips. The effect was unusual, but quite pretty.

 

Insides suddenly fluttering in nervousness, Hermione entered the living room. Harry and Draco had joined Ginny and Pansy. Their catcalls made her blush.

 

“Good thing I’m in love with you, Red,” Draco announced, pressing a kiss to Ginny’s cheek. She answered him with a playful swat.

 

“Nice work, Love,” Harry said to Pansy. Pansy shot him a sly glance. “Bet your arse.”

 

“The invitation’s a Portkey,” Ginny said, offering the wrinkled parchment to Hermione. She must have pulled it out of the bin. Hermione might have attempted to question her friends’ motives once more, but the scroll pulled her away without warning.

 

The night was not cold, but Hermione shivered to find herself on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The drive’s gravel crunched under her feet as she walked towards the door. She had made the decision to attend; she wouldn’t turn and run now. Had Ginny and Pansy known something about the party? It was being held in Draco’s ancestral home. Surely he knew something.

 

The door swung open as Hermione approached. A woman wearing black robes and a blindfold welcomed Hermione and asked if she had a cloak or would like to check any belongings. She then offered Hermione Polyjuice Potion.

 

“It’s the manner of the masquerade,” the woman explained.

 

“I’ll forego that, thank you,” Hermione replied, amused. She had no desire to experience the effects of that particular brew again.

 

“You’re not the first,” the witch said, and she held aside a curtain for Hermione to pass through.

 

Hermione felt Alice-like as she entered a hall of magnificent opulence. Whoever had arranged the event had certainly lightened their purse. For a brief moment, Hermione wondered if Draco’s father, Lucius, was responsible for the party. When they met in the Ministry corridors, she felt a bit awkward in his presence. He always seemed to want to make small talk. Hermione did not enjoy small talk. She was rubbish at it and eventually ended up in uncertain silence.

 

As Hermione moved through the hall, she noted that some doors stood open and a few were closed. Through the open doors she got a shock to see beds. She hadn’t entered some sort of sex party, had she? The ‘ _ _Prophet’__ had made no mention of that! Her step faltered. Then laughter and soft conversation drew her towards the ballroom at the far end. Her blood thrummed a little hotter at the thought of being at a scandalous party.

 

Was she disappointed to find a simple gathering of gaily dressed witches and wizards – none of whom she recognized? Hermione made her way to the bar and asked for a red wine.

 

She was joined by a man with a thick grey beard and a squashy nose.

 

“I’m regretting the Polyjuice,” he said, leaning his elbows on the bar.

 

Hermione smiled. She wasn’t going to admit that she hadn’t taken it – just in case. “Rather unpleasant side effects…”

 

“What do you make of this party…?” the wizard asked, gesturing at the ballroom.

 

“I’m not sure, actually. There appears to be more than just twenty-four here…”

 

“I understand the interest was so great that twenty-four additional invitations went out.”

 

“Ah,” Hermione replied, dismayed. There would be at least forty-eight people here. Perhaps she should finish her wine and escape. Harry and Pansy would simply have to relocate into Pansy’s bedroom for once.

 

“You’re not really Hermione Granger, are you…?” the bearded man asked.

 

“Who?”

 

“Never mind, a school chum,” he said.

 

“Wait,” Hermione whispered, pulling the wizard back. “Yes, it’s me. Who are you?”

 

“It’s Neville,” he grinned.

 

Somehow, Hermione could suddenly see him within the bearded, pouchy visage that he wore. She gave him a hug.

 

“It’s so good to see you – you know what I mean. I’m so glad you’re here. Ginny and Pansy forced me to come. They swore I’d meet a wizard! Utterly ridiculous.” She tucked her arm under his.

 

Neville gently untwined from her. “But I __am__ here to meet a witch. Don’t want to give any potentials the wrong impression…”

 

They chatted a bit longer, but it was obvious that Neville wanted to circulate. Hermione drank three more glasses of wine after his departure. She noted that couples would leave the ballroom and return after some time, distinctly mussed.  After another glass of excellent wine, Hermione found herself in a conversation with a group of witches and wizards on the choice of Polyjuice Potion.

 

“It will wear off at midnight,” said a wizard behind Hermione. A hand slid familiarly across her hip, and she gasped to find Lucius Malfoy pulling her into his arms.

 

“Who are you?” Hermione demanded even as she allowed him to hug her. It was surreal that someone wearing Lucius Malfoy’s skin had decided to lay claim to her. Regardless, Hermione’s body was thrilled, and her senses were overwhelmed. He pulled her closer and nuzzled her neck, flooding her body with tingling anticipation.

 

“Lucius Malfoy, of course,” he chuckled.

 

“Really,” Hermione giggled.

 

“Think about it…” he whispered against her ear, sending delight tripping down her spine and a rush of heat to the crux of her thighs. Hermione had no idea who the man might be. No one had ever inspired such a fiery reaction in her, and it was rather lovely imagining Lucius lavishing such attention on her… He was an attractive wizard even if he was Draco’s father.

 

“Will you follow me…?” he asked.

 

“That depends on where you lead,” she teased. The wizard’s pale eyes looked into hers, and she wanted to withdraw her flirtation. It wasn’t fair to this wizard that she wanted the real Lucius.

 

“You’re thinking too hard,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips. “Just to talk…”

 

Inhibitions lowered, Hermione wanted nothing more than to say yes and disappear with him behind closed doors. But, again, she had no idea who he was.

 

“Steven?” she asked.

 

“No,” he replied with a scowl.

 

“Alright, then,” she agreed, noting that his expression was very Lucius-like.

 

When the wizard led her out to the garden, the cool night air revived her a bit. They strolled through hedges and past interesting statues to a bench and ‘Lucius’ sat her down.

 

“Ms. Granger,” he began, sitting beside her. “Midnight is moments away.”

 

“How do you know it’s me?” she interrupted.

 

“I know you, and I know that you don’t enjoy that particular potion.”

 

“I see. My apologies. Please continue,” she said.

 

The wizard took her hand. “I’m in love with you, Ms. Granger,” he said.

 

Hermione got chills to hear those words, let alone from Lucius Malfoy. She blushed furiously as she met his gaze. It was confusing to accept such a statement from a stranger.

 

“Midnight is moments away?” she asked.

 

“You may not like me after midnight,” ‘Lucius’ said. “May I kiss you at least once before then?”

 

His thumb swept across her palm, igniting delight within her, and Hermione nodded. She was unprepared for the man to take her chin with such tenderness. In love, indeed. She was looking into his eyes and could not see another man within him. When his lips touched hers, she saw, felt and thought only of Lucius. For a moment, Hermione allowed herself to relax and imagine that it was really Lucius. He responded to her parted lips, and the kiss became something else. As if sensing her acceptance, he pulled her closer, and Hermione’s senses swam. Her veins sang with eagerness, sending happiness to all of her parts.

 

A smidgeon of logic and justice burned within Hermione, and she could not in good conscience continue to kiss a man, imagining him to be someone else. She pulled away abruptly.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, embarrassed to find that her hands had been on his thighs.

 

The wizard cleared his throat. “You have nothing to apologize for. I got carried away…”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle. She went quiet as he captured her hand once more.

 

“You know…” she began, worried about hurting the wizard. “I can’t help but see you as Lucius Malfoy…”

 

“I see,” he said.

 

“It isn’t fair to you,” she added, struggling to explain.

 

“You are displeased…” he said.

 

“No, no. But I keep thinking of you as him…” Hermione said slowly, guiltily.

 

The distant sound of erupting laughter caught their attention.

 

“Perhaps we should go back,” she sighed, standing. It was not at all fair to him. Poor man.

 

“Hermione,” he said, still seated.

 

She turned back to him and felt a sting of anger that she only saw Lucius.

 

“It’s after midnight,” he said.

 

Hermione’s heart skipped. She was still looking at Lucius Malfoy. Her breath caught.

 

“Oh, Merlin,” she whispered as her vision swam. He stood and closed the distance between them while Hermione absorbed the revelation that he __was__ Lucius.

 

“You haven’t run away,” he muttered, leaning over her with his hand possessively sliding over her hip.

 

Hermione could only shake her head. She was shocked and delighted. When he kissed her again, she was willing to let him go as far as he wanted to take her.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: EWE, Harry/Pansy, Draco/Ginny  
> Notes: “Polyjuice Party” was the phrase that inspired this. Beta read by Maria Lynnette.  
> Originally published Dec. 9, 2012


End file.
